An eventful cold
by Prolific Reider
Summary: Ava comes down with a nasty cold. Connor is there to help. 5-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note;**

Dear readers, first of all, thank you for checking out my story.

This is set somewhere before 3x11. I apologise if it seems a bit AU, especially considering last night's episode (was anyone else disappointed in how it all ended?) Anyways, I tried my best to remain as faithful to the characters as possible.

Any reviews and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated :)

 **Disclaimer 1** : I'm more of that avid reader (that skims all of her duties in favour of devouring one fic after the other) than a writer. However, there are no Ava/Connor fanfictions out there yet *cries*. So, here is my contribution to this underexplored coupling, inspired by true events aka a cold I've had last week. **Read with a pinch of salt when it comes to the little details e.g. how long Ava's been in Chicago and where she's from and some stuff I've made up since we don't know much about Ava's background.**

 **Disclaimer 2** : I don't own the characters or show. All rights belong to Dick Wolf and co.

* * *

Ava Bekker stood in front of the ER doors and stared dejectedly out into the dark night.

It was _pouring_. Rain was coming down in the most ridiculously dense sheets. She'd never seen it rain like this before.

Whatever had happened to the weather during the day? In the morning, she had been woken by the sun shining through her window, the golden rays meekly illuminating the early day. Ok, they'd been timid rays; it had been a 6 o'clock November morning after all, but they'd been shining steadily. In fact, it had been so gorgeous that she'd biked it to work again. It was just a twenty-minute ride and the warmth on her cheeks contrasting with the bite of the wind had been exhilarating.

Up until now, she'd biked it almost every day to and from work, save for that one stormy week a while ago. However, this was the first time that she'd encountered leaving home in the sun and finding it pouring in the evening.

She sighed; she had no waterproof attire, wellies or umbrella. She'd have to call herself a taxi. There was no way she'd get more than 3 strides out of the building without ending up drenched.

Still standing squarely in front of the double doors, she fished out the cell-phone from the back pocket of her skinny jeans and opened her browser. Even though she'd taken a cab to a hotel that night she arrived at Midway Airport from Johannesburg, she'd been so exhausted that she couldn't remember which company she'd used.

"Flash cab or yellow cab?" she mused aloud, scrolling down the google search results. Her fingers hovered between those two links, and she ended up deciding to go for Flash cabs in the hopes that they lived up to their name. Ava wanted nothing more than to get home as soon as possible, change into comfy sweats and bury herself in her king-sized bed. She had a pounding headache and a sore throat.

 _Damn this cold, I hope it blows over tonight,_ she thought glumly as her eyes scanned the website for the company's phone.

"Doctor Bekker" someone called, drawing out the word doctor.

She looked up from her phone and turned to the source. Connor Rhodes was walking up towards the doors, a waist-high umbrella in his hand. He was tapping it lightly against the floor with each step he took, as if it were a walking stick.

She smiled and greeted him in the same manner with a tilt of her head, " _Doctor_ Rhodes."

That man confused the hell out of her. He was so surly, stubborn and untouchable; immune to _all_ of her suggestions, and it drove her crazy. But then, he'd occasionally show his human and compassionate side during vulnerable moments, mostly in surgery.

She honestly didn't know what to make of him. Sure, after almost 4 months of working along side him, their relationship had significantly improved since he'd warmed up to her quirky side and she'd started laying off the meaner jibes. But now she felt that they were at an impasse, stuck.

She couldn't explain it to herself, let alone confront _him_ about it. But she was sure that something was hanging between them, waiting to blow over with some major argument. At least, she hoped so. Because this feeling of suffocation scratching her in the chest every time he said _nice job_ or _wanna scrub in_ or _your hands are smaller, you should suture this_ or any other trivial comment was also driving her crazy.

If she didn't know any better, Ava Bekker might admit that she had a crush on Connor Rhodes. And she did _not_ get crushes. People fawned over _her_ , not the other way around!

He reached her and stopped next to her, eyes flitting up and down as he unsubtly took in her slender, coat-cloaked figure. A shiver ran along her spine and it wasn't because of the chill in the air that ruffled her hair every time someone stepped out of the hospital past them and the automatic doors opened and closed.

No, she shivered because it always felt like his eyes were physically and carefully caressing her body whenever he did those sweep-y glances of his, mostly whenever he saw her out of scrubs. Some subconscious part of her mind was smug however that he got to see her in this outfit. The black skinny jeans, grey sweater shirt, cream scarf and that snug green parka jacket that was tight at the waist and fell to her mid-thighs was one of her favourite outfits that made her feel sexy in Chicago's cold, cold autumn.

 _How will I survive winter if it's so cold now already, on the_ _9_ _th_ _day of November?_

"Where's your umbrella?" his question interrupted her train of thought. He lifted his arm to emphasise that he was holding his. As if she could miss it. She eyed it jealously, it was so big! It undoubtedly had such a big circumference when opened that not a drop of rain would touch her colleague when he got out there in the cold, even if there was wind blowing the rain sideways.

She looked back up at him, "Ai think you meant, where's your car?" and smiled sheepishly as his eyes widened. Oh, he wasn't going to let her live this one down any time soon.

Clearly taken aback, he asked, "You don't have an umbrella _or_ a car?"

She shrugged, "I do have one of both. They're just at home."

He looked at her as if she had lost her mind, so she reassured him, "I'm calling myself a cab. I'm not _that_ stupid. Say, are Flash Cabs any good?"

He continued to stare agape at her. Finally, he shook his head and said, "No, don't bother trying, they'll take forever to arrive given the current conditions. I'll give you a lift home."

And before she could say anything, he was linking his arm through hers. She startled at the contact but allowed him to firmly lead her out of the hospital, his other hand opening the umbrella with a click and lifting it up over their heads as they stepped outside.

The cold breeze and tiny droplets of rain hit her face, and she was suddenly very grateful towards his impromptu decision. As Connor had said, waiting for a cab might very well take ages, 'Flash' or not. Furthermore, she'd have had to walk out to it without any protection from the waterfall overhead. She shivered in the gloom and leaned in closer to him, her shoulder glued against his bicep.

He walked them quickly across the parking lot, their feet sloshing around in the puddles. After manoeuvring them around to a row of cars, he finally stopped in front of one of them. She could just about make it out; it was that showy sports cart she'd seen him arrive to work in a few times.

She felt him move next to her, his arm abandoning hers as he dug through his pockets. Soon enough she heard the click of a car key. The car's headlights gave her a wink and he reached for the passenger door in front of them, opening it for her.

"Get in" he instructed, placing a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forwards. She didn't need it said twice. He held the umbrella over her as she slid onto the wide, leather seat. When her boot-clad feet were safely tucked in, he closed the door on her. Ava quivered, partly in relief that she was sheltered and partly due to whatever she was coming down with.

Moments later, Connor was climbing into the driver's seat, shaking the umbrella before closing his door too. He twisted his torso to stash the umbrella on the floor between the front and back seats, her breath hitched as he brushed up against her in doing so.

He turned back around and they sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the loud _splatter platter patter_ the rain was furiously making against the windshield.

At first, she felt slightly on edge, not sure what to do or say. She was sitting with Connor Rhodes in his expensive sports car and she felt… weirdly exposed. She wasn't in her element here, not like when they were in an OR together.

She shook her head a little to pull herself out of it. _Relax_ , she scolded herself and finally smirked, "Don't suppose I can drive?"

"Ha, no thanks, I'm not sure I trust your judgement. I mean, why on Earth wouldn't you bring your car to work? Did you _walk_ it? In November?" There was a trace of humour in his voice.

 _He's having a field day with this, isn't he?_

"You mean apart from exercise being healthy for the _heart,_ Mister-hotshot-cardio-surgeon? And no, I biked it. After all, I only live about 8 kilometres away from hospital, and I've calculated that I use 1.7 litres of fuel for every round trip. _1.7 litres_! For what, arriving comfortably? What about the environmental implications? How can I justify…"

He cut her off, clearly amused at her mini-ramble and wild hand gestures. "You do know that it snows in winter in Chicago, right? Will you bike it then, too?"

Her eyes lit up, she was looking forward to that. Back home at South Africa, it only snowed on the higher altitude locations so she couldn't get nearly enough of it. But she didn't let on and half-heartedly continued the banter, even though she knew that he wouldn't think of her any less crazy than he already did.

"It's not winter yet. And _no_ , I only bike it when the weather is nice, as it was this morning."

He chuckled but to her relief, he didn't continue to add insult to injury by pointing out how the weather had made a 180-degree turn.

Still looking down at her, he blindly placed the key into the ignition, turned it, and asked, "In which direction do I drive for the next 8 km?"

Ava's lips curled upwards, she loved how he'd injected that tiny detail into the question, but before she could reply, her nose's tickling finally won. She turned away from him and sneezed into the crook of her elbow, eyes screwing shut for a split second.

He had the audacity to chuckle at her again. She glared at him, hand covering her mouth and nose till she was sure it had been a dry sneeze. However, she was mostly annoyed at herself for how freaking _dainty_ she sounded whenever she sneezed. _Ugrh._

"Didn't know a sneeze could sound that cute" he said, eyes glinting mischievously.

She rolled hers; she really didn't have the energy to find an appropriate comeback. Instead she said, "Take the second exit at the roundabout across hospital."

Her voice sounded thick even to her own ears. As Connor gripped the steering wheel and started reversing, he said, "Do you have a cold?"

She winced, "Think so. I've had this sore throat and headache for a couple of days. Still waiting for them to pass."

He tilted his head, "Hopefully you'll wake up just fine tomorrow."

"Yeah" she agreed enthusiastically.

After that, they mostly drove in silence, save for the thumping sound of the rain against the car and the wipers relentlessly scraping at the windshield.

The car quickly warmed up and she found herself feeling so comfortable that she had to fight her body's will to fall asleep. Several times she slipped out of consciousness but woke right back up when her head drooped to her chest. She quickly forced it upright again each time it happened, hoping that he hadn't noticed.

She gave him further instructions every now and then, before he could ask. He drove extremely cautiously, not speeding over 30km/h due to the conditions.

 _He has a good taste in cars_ , her brain mused as they _finally_ , smoothly turned into her street. Its tires easily gripped the road without skidding despite the puddles. She blinked her heavy eyes, relieved that she'd survived the ride without falling asleep.

"Pull over there, in front of house number 12" she said softly, pointing towards the empty parking space in front of her home.

He nodded, parked the car in and switched off the engine.

Ava ran a hand along her seatbelt, following it all the way from her chest to the buckle at her waist to free herself. He too undid his seatbelt and twisted around to face her better as she stretched herself, a yawn breaking out on her face.

"Thank you, Connor. I really appreciate this" she said sincerely, bringing her hand to rest on the door handle after her little cat-stretch.

He smirked, "What, no digs? No, ' _thank you Connor, but I could have walked it faster. What do you have a sports car for if you drive so slowly?'"_

Her mouth mirrored his, "Am I really that bad?"

He tilted his head and gave a little shrug which she took as a, _you know…_

So she rolled her eyes and promised, "Since you seem to be immune to normal compliments, I'll throw in a dig next time."

He laughed at that. Then, he changed the subject, "Want me to walk you to the door? It's still raining heavily."

She felt her heart stutter as he glanced past shoulder her to look at her house, but she quickly shook her head. Her porch had a little overhang that was just 5 or 6 long strides away from the car.

"It's ok, thanks. I don't want to keep you any longer from… well, whichever one of your myriad girlfriends gets Connor Rhodes tonight…"

He grinned and those sporadic lines on his forehead that she'd come to recognise as worry lines disappeared. Her little tease seemed to have put him at ease. Had he been worrying about her quiet demeanour during the car ride? As she tried to consider this and weigh the probabilities, her head protested. She decided to file this whole evening away until she was up to analysing it all.

His grin evolved into a hearty chuckled, "Tonight it's just me and Jimmy Fallon. I've gotta pace myself, ya know?"

She grinned back, even though she had no idea who Jimmy Fallon was. She was just kind of relieved that she didn't have to deal with any stupid jealous thoughts tonight, even though at the same time she hated that she felt this way in the first place.

"Good night, Connor" she said simply once her grin died down enough to form the sentence. Still smiling fondly, he replied, "Good night."

Her hand dragged the handle down and as she pushed the door open, a gust of wind and rain hit her golden locks. She broke eye contact, slipped out into the darkness and slammed the door shut behind her.

She hurriedly jogged it to the overhang, head bent downwards. Once sheltered from the rain, she walked it the rest of the way to her door, fingers searching her hips for the right pocket containing the keys.

She could feel his eyes digging holes into her as she pushed the key into the keyhole.

The door swung open before her, and before closing off the world for the night, she turned around and waved towards the car. Despite the rain, she saw him raise his own hand before he drove off.

She ducked inside, safe from the cold exterior. As her fingers worked to open her coat and hang it by the door, Ava grinned like an idiot to herself. _Connor Rhodes just drove me home_ , she thought happily.


	2. Chapter 2

When her alarm clock rang at quarter to 6 the next morning, she immediately knew that she wasn't well.

Ava groaned and blindly reached out for her phone. As she cracked her eyes open to disable the alarm clock, she found that she had to blink away a heavy crust that was intent on gluing her eyelids together.

God, all her joints seemed to have grown 50 years older overnight. Despite their stiffness, she reluctantly pulled herself into a sitting position, quilt pooling at her hips, and assessed herself. Her eyes were leaky, not to mention her nose, judging by the dried crusts she could feel all over her face. Her throat was still constricted and painful, her stomach reeling unpleasantly and her head throbbing.

 _This isn't some small virus. I must've contracted Doctor Latham's cold_ , she concluded glumly. Doctor Latham had been so ill last week that he'd taken leave and left her and Connor alone in charge. From what she knew about her attending, that was something that _never_ happened.

She carefully slipped out from her warm sanctuary, sock-clad feet touching the hardwood floor. She stood up and was pleased that at least she wasn't dizzy.

She made a beeline for the sink in the en suite bathroom and didn't bother to wait till the water warmed. Using her hands, she splashed her face with the icy liquid and gently rubbed away all the dried guck on her face.

When she looked up into the mirror, her heart sank at the sight. She didn't _look_ well, either. Her eyes were red and squinted, her skin whiter than usual, save for two, cherry-red patches on her cheekbones. And her hair was frizzy and curling unrulily at the ends. She'd probably sweated during the night.

She frowned at herself. _Damn!_ She didn't want to miss work. But there was no way that she could, nor wanted to show up there in this state. Sure, she could consult on cases, assess patients and write post- or preop notes as long as she kept a safe distance from the patients and took all the necessary precautions, such as disinfecting her hands _very_ often. However, there was no way that she could concentrate well. She was most definitely unfit for surgery.

The best thing to do was to call in and ask for a couple of days of sick leave like Doctor Latham had done.

First, she needed some pain relief though. She opened the cabinet behind the mirror, searched through the boxes of medicines _,_ slightly amused at what an assortment she'd collected already, and popped out two Tylenol-cold-and-flus into her hand. She swallowed them dry and winced as they scratched against her sore throat on the way down.

Next, headed to her living room to scavenge through the files in her bookcase for her work contract. The contract contained all the necessary phone numbers and protocols for these situations. Luckily, since she was a highly organised person, it didn't take her long to find it.

Shivering, she sank into her couch, dialled the correct number and held the phone to her ear.

" _Gaffney ED, how may I help you_?"

She recognised the voice; "Hi, Maggie."

" _Doctor Bekker? Is that you_?" the nurse sounded slightly confused. Ava didn't blame her, she sounded strange to her own ears.

"Yeah, I've come down with a cold. Can I ask for the next couple of days off?"

" _Oh, honey, I'm sorry you're not well! Lemme just check the schedule…"_

She held her breath, silently praying that there were enough cardio surgeons on call.

After a few moments, Maggie spoke again, " _I'm really sorry Doctor Bekker, but today we're understaffed! Until about 11 a.m. there's no one else to cover the cardiac ICU since Doctor Latham and Doctor Rhodes are each scrubbing in on a valve replacement until then and the other residents either have surgery too or are out sick. Tell you what, how about you cover the ICU till Doctors Rhodes and Latham are free; just round on the patients and attend to them if any emergencies arise? I'll cancel your own procedures for today so that you can go home as soon as they're done."_

She sighed dejectedly, "Ok, I'll be there in half an hour."

" _Thank you, Doctor. I'll process your sick leave request. I'll give you 3 days after today, ok? You can always come back sooner once you're well."_

"Thanks, Maggie."

" _No problem. Again, I'm sorry about today. See you soon!"_

She cut the line.

"Dammit" Ava muttered to herself and headed back towards her bedroom to grab clean scrubs and underwear. She'd wear them from home, not change at hospital like she usually did. That required extra energy which she didn't have.

After a quick shower, she layered herself well with a tank top and a tightly-fitting dark grey sweater before pulling on the navy scrubs. She wrapped herself in her coat and scarf and headed out.

This time with both car and umbrella.

* * *

Connor Rhodes was quietly humming to himself as he methodologically sutured the porcine mitral valve into his patient. The OR was eerily quiet. The scrub nurse kept stealing glances at Marty the anaesthesiologist, who was engrossed in a crossword puzzle. He didn't mind, in this part of the surgery, until he finished the suturing and would require assistance in closing the sternum, he didn't really need her to be focused.

 _It wouldn't be so quiet if Ava were here_ , he thought to himself. Whenever they had surgery together, she kept him on his toes. She was constantly chatting about stuff.

In the beginning she questioned his relationship to Robin. After they broke up and he was intent on getting her back, she joked about his finding his _"gift of self-flagellation fascinating"._ Then, once he realised that she was right (not that he admitted it to her); that it _was_ a fool's errand, that Robin didn't want him anymore so he should respect her decision, she couldn't use that topic as leverage anymore so she switched to inconsequential ones.

Sometimes, she wouldn't really be addressing him, but he still listened. Like when she'd comment on the weather and compare it to her experiences in South Africa. Other times, she'd directly try to get him open up about his family.

She would also frequently quote the latest medical articles or ask them all to suggest places of interest in Chicago.

He mostly let her do the talking, it amused him to no end how she could keep the entire OR entertained. _Especially_ when she wasn't entertaining them with his personal life. He avoided answering any questions about his family and only gave curt answers to other questions. Not because he didn't want to converse, but because the scrub nurses had grown to love her and answered for him. Her accent, zero knowledge of pop American culture and love for gossip coupled with her inability to mince her words, had grown on all of them.

Connor frequently found himself hoping for big cases or even cardio-related traumas for more OR time with her. There was something about her, an aura, that drew him to her. But after his recent failures in relationships; Sam Zanetti and Robin Charles in quick succession, he wasn't anywhere near ready nor interested in pursuing something with Ava. She deserved better than some meaningless one-night stand or being his rebound. Plus, he wasn't sure if the sexual attraction he felt towards the slender woman was just one-sided. Sure, she loved teasing him and was very forthcoming, but she also behaved that way towards others.

He shook his head and attempted to push her out of his mind.

It didn't work. Instead, his mind replayed last evening to him. He remembered the way she'd initially looked kind of nervous to be in such close quarters with him in unfamiliar waters and how she'd seemed so small against the wide seat. The way her lips curled upwards when he interrupted the beginning of a passionate ramble about ditching the car for the environment. He'd also noticed her drifting off into sleep and forcing herself upright far too often for 10 o'clock in the evening, and that she barely tried to inject sarcastic remarks about the whole encounter. She had definitely not been her usual bubbly self the last couple of days.

He hadn't thought much of her sneeze and thick voice until now. A little sore throat and congestion happened to all of them once in a while, it was part of the whole doctor package, plus it seemed absurd that Ava Bekker was capable of succumbing to a serious cold. But now, as he replayed last night's events in his head, he started to wonder if maybe she had contracted Doctor Latham's cold.

He hoped not. According to their attending, the 3rd day of being sick had been hell. " _I even had to give myself an IV bag to remain hydrated since my stomach wouldn't retain anything. Oh, and painkillers were my best friends. Not off-the-counter paracetamol, no, that had no effect. I had a colleague prescribe me some diclofenac_ " he had told Connor when he returned healthy back to work earlier this week.

Thinking of the devil, the OR doors whooshed as they opened and closed with none other than Doctor Latham entering.

"Doctor Rhodes!" he heard his attending greet from behind him.

While continuing his stitching, he replied, "Finished your valve replacement already, Doctor Latham?"

"Indeed I did" Latham said in his typical, curt style.

He was aware of the tall doctor walking up to him and stopping behind his shoulder. As he looked down at his work, Connor asked lightly, "What brings you to my OR, Doctor? Checking I'm still a competent fellow?"

"Ah, no. I have complete confidence in your skills. I just came to inform you that you and I will be taking over Doctor Bekker's surgeries today. She's not feeling well and will leave hospital to get some rest as soon as you're done and can relieve her."

His heart sank, she _was_ sick then. There was no way in hell she would willingly give up her surgeries to him. He glanced at his attending, "Did she get your cold, Doctor Latham?"

The tall surgeon nodded regretfully, "Unfortunately it appears so. I asked her to list her symptoms and they're one-to-one what I experienced. Can I count on you to find her after this procedure and tell her she can go home?"

"You can."

"Excellent." Latham disappeared quietly and half an hour later, Connor finished closing his patient up. "Dress the sternal incision, then take our patient to the ICU. I'll check in on him shorty" he instructed his scrub nurse.

"Yes Doctor" she replied.

He gave her a little wave and headed to the scrub-room, discarding the gown and gloves in the medical waste bin before exiting the OR. He quickly scrubbed out, then he hurried towards the nurses' station of the cardiac ICU, pulling off his cloth cap in the process.

He soon spotted Ava's blonde, bowed head behind the counter. As he slowed down, not wanting to seem to eager, he called out, "Doctor Bekker" to get her attention.

She glanced up at him, giving him a glimpse of her drawn face from where she was sat behind the station.

She really didn't look well; she was white as a ghost save for her red eyes, cheeks and nose. Her hair was pulled into a braid on her right shoulder. It was nothing like her usual, elegant and neat style; rouge strands of hair were fanning her face and the braid's end frayed wildly.

It would've been comical if this were a film, she looked like a cartoonised human. Or a humanised cartoon. He wasn't sure which.

"Wow, Doctor Latham wasn't kidding when he said you weren't feeling well. You look terrible!" he said as he leaned onto the countertop in front of her.

She narrowed her eyes, "Why, thank you, Doctor Rhodes". Her voice was hoarse and thick; he almost missed the sarcasm.

"I'm here to take over. You can go home…" He frowned, still considering her, "…can you make it home? You look drained."

She slowly stood and handed him the chart she'd been writing in. "Mr. Granger in room 10 keeps coding, don't let him die" she said croakily before trudging off towards their locker room. He stared after her, brow still puckered, worry lapping at him.

"Ava" he called. She turned around, surprise evident in her features. He opened his mouth, not really sure what he was about to say, but she beat him to it.

"I'm fine, Connor. No need to worry about me."

She gave him a watery smile which did _not_ convince him, then turned again and continued her awkward-looking gait.

But he couldn't help worrying. After all, her reddened cheeks suggested she was running a fever and her stiff posture probably meant that she was in pain. She really shouldn't be driving in this state.

 _What?_ , the rational part of his brain snapped at the part that was feeling guilty at letting her walk off like that alone. _What_ possibly _could you do? You're needed here, there's literally nothing you can do for her._

But someone needed to do something, no? Ava was in a foreign country and hadn't been here long enough to develop any romances; he was quite sure of that. Otherwise, she wouldn't be constantly asking about places of interest; her date would be taking her to them. She'd also have arrived late to work at some point or she would have daydreamed in the OR. Just as she could always call him out when he'd spent the night with a 'date', there was no way she could hide something like that from him.

So, that meant that there was no one she could call if she needed help. There was no one who could check up on her. She had no one to make sure she was stocked up on painkillers and soup.

 _I'll go check on her after work,_ he decided against his better judgment. That's what friends did, right? They were there for each other. Even though they had a competitive rivalry going on when it came to surgery, he did consider her to be a friend, not just a colleague.

 _Ok, but until then, you need to be focused,_ the rational part said grumpily.

So, the rest of the day, he didn't allow his thoughts to linger on Ava. Instead, he covered the ICU (Doctor Latham took over when he was in the cath-lab or OR) and performed one of her surgeries next to some emergency stents of his own.

At 8, when his shift was finished, he rushed to his locker to change into comfortable clothes; jeans, a snugly-fitting dark jumper and leather jacket.

 _If the cold is as bad as Doctor Latham described it, it wouldn't harm if I gave her some hospital-grade pain meds to knock her out. Giving her body a long sleep would definitely help her recover quicker._

So he stopped at the medicine supply closet before leaving to pack few bags of saline, syringes, plasters and bandages and a hefty dose of injectable painkillers into a cloth bag.

Finally, he headed to his car. Good thing he'd given her a lift home yesterday. He would've still gotten his hands on her address somehow, but that would have been creepy.

Mind spinning with concern for Ava, he started the engine and redrove the same route as last night.


	3. Chapter 3

The space in front of her house was not unoccupied this time. A small, 2-seater Sedan he assumed to be hers was parked there.

So, he parked across the road instead, then stepped out of his car with the supplies in tow.

As he crossed the road, he studied the little façade. Her bungalow was one of many other small houses in that road; while some could easily be 2-storied houses, hers was so low that it was most definitely just one-storied.

The front was painted white and had a slanting red roof. A small overhang in front of the porch led towards the wooden, maroon door. It looked sturdy and had no peephole. A small, black letterbox was nailed next to it. Similarly, the house number, composed of separate pieces of gold-painted metal bent into the shapes of a 1 and 2, was hammered above the door into the wall.

Two windows flanked the door, each adorned with potted flowers. He smiled; how she managed to maintain those next to work and the cooling conditions was beyond him. He decided that it all looked very fitting and Ava-worthy. He couldn't imagine her living anywhere else.

As he got closer, his eyes searched for a doorbell. However, there wasn't one, so he fisted his hand and rapped his knuckles sharply against the door.

He heard his knocks echo into the house. He paused, ears cocked, but couldn't hear anything inside.

He pounded again, more forcefully. Still nothing. _Maybe she's asleep_ , he thought.

He kept pounding, now without break, intent of being let in.

Finally, he heard the sound of a lock being twisted behind the door. He stopped knocking and buried his free hand in the pocket of his jeans.

Seconds later, the door swung inwards, revealing Ava to him. A half-naked, bare-footed Ava, to be precise.

She was only wearing a loose grey tank-top over matching black bra and boxer-style panties. He gulped as he took her body in, was she _trying_ to torture him? The tank top was several sizes too large. In fact, it was so loose that it didn't provide her with much modesty and did little to hide her ivory skin from his eyes. He had to force himself not to let his gaze linger on her full-looking breasts by bringing his eyes up to meet hers.

She didn't look any better than when he'd seen her at hospital. Her eyes were bleary and she was squinting at him, probably trying to make sense of his presence. Her disorientation confirmed to him that she must have been sleeping.

They stared at each other for a moment; her confused, him taken aback. Finally, she opened the door wider and turned her back to him. He took that as an invitation to let himself in.

As he stepped into her cosy living room and closed the door behind him, she made her way to a 3-seater sofa and slowly lowered herself into it, clutching an armrest and groaning quietly in the process.

He glanced around. Across the room, directly in front of the door he'd entered from, there was a corridor leading to the rest of the house.

The sofa plus an armchair to his right took up the bulk of the room, facing a TV within a wall-unit full of books on his left. A wooden table stood in the middle of the room, displaced slightly towards the sofa so as to create a wider passage through to the corridor. It was close enough to the sofa that it could be comfortably used as a footrest or for placing bowls of crisps on it while watching TV. All in all, the living room had a very comfortable, homey feel to it.

Furthermore, Connor noticed that there were clothes haphazardly splayed out on the floor, starting at the door with boots, a coat and scarf and finishing at the sofa with a pair of thick socks.

He couldn't help but smirk in amusement as he picked up her scrub top, the dark grey sweater shirt she often wore underneath, and her scrub pants, on his way towards her.

She'd clearly stripped off almost all of her clothes upon her arrival home and left everything lying on the floor. The different clothing pieces led him towards the sofa like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs had led them home.

He sat down next to her, placing the clothes he'd picked up and the bag he'd brought with him on the low-lying table. As he unzipped his jacket, he asked "Do you think it's wise to open the door half-naked to a stranger?"

She glanced down at her scarcely-clad body, then looked up at him and scoffed, "You're hardly a stranger"

He didn't miss the surliness in her cracked voice.

Connor rolled his eyes, "I could have been. You have no peephole. And what exactly happened to your clothes?"

"Hot flush 's soon 's I arrived home that has yet to pass."

He noticed that she was keeping her spoken words to a minimum and that her frown wasn't directed at him. _She's in pain. Is she keeping herself hydrated?_

He placed a hand over her forehead; it engulfed half of her face. Her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a quiet moan. He wasn't surprised; her skin felt like a furnace against his hand. He then moved his hand to feel for the lymph nodes in her neck, gently massaging either side of her head. Sure enough, he found them to be enlarged.

"You're running quite a temperature, that explains why you're feeling so hot. Still, it's no good for your health…"

 _…_ _Or my sanity…_

"For you not to be wearing any clothes."

He sorted through the grey and blue fabrics in front of him, setting the scrubs aside and picking out the sweatshirt. "So, let's get this back on" he concluded, untwisting it. Not giving her a chance to object, he found the neck-hole, stretched it open and pulled it over her head, gently freeing her chin and hair in the process.

Since she didn't have much of a choice, she clumsily cooperated, lifting an arm and forcing it through the first armhole. He held it open for her, then rolled up the second sleeve to make it easier for her to wear. When her second arm was covered and those delicate shoulders were finally not bare anymore, he gently gripped the hem of the shirt that was riding just above her breasts and tugged it down till it hid her bellybutton.

She then leaned against the backrest of the sofa, closed her eyes and mumbled "No pants. Too hot."

He eyed the scrub pants despite her plea. He _should_ be helping her to wear those; the fever would break eventually and then she'd feel cold without pants. But it felt too intimate for him to crouch down in front of her and manually dress her lower body. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable.

His eyes swept the room again and he spotted a neatly-folded blanket on the armchair. He leaned over her to reach for it.

As he opened it and draped it across her lap, its beautiful stitching caught his eye; it looked to be handmade. The blanket was composed of ripples in about 15 different hues of blue, gold, green and grey, and the interlocking effect of the ripples reminded him of a beach. It was extremely soft and looked slightly worn.

"Have you been drinking?" he asked once he was done admiring the blanket and had tucked it in at her waist. She shook her head, "Just comes right back up."

He winced sympathetically. "Then I'll give you some IV fluids. It'll slow your recovery if you're not hydrated."

She cracked an eye open. There was a trace of humour and surprise in her voice, "You got me a drip?"

He smiled at her, "I did. Also got some painkillers that should knock you out for 8 hours. But you need to get hydrated first. When did you last take anything against the pain?"

He saw her glance at a clock on the wall.

"3 hours ago. Tylenol-cold-n-flu."

"Ok, so we have to wait at least another 3 hours till I can give you the meds I brought. And you need to eat something in the meantime."

"Eat?" she scrunched her nose.

"Yeah. You need the sugars for energy to fight this cold. Don't worry, I'm not expecting you to eat a steak. I was thinking of making you some broth or soup. Then, once you get the meds, you'll wake up feeling much better. Doctor Latham swore by them."

"Fine" she said, closed her eye again, then held out her right hand. "Put the IV in there."

"Want to lie down till I prepare some food?"

She nodded, so he got up from next to her, grabbed her ankles and swung them up onto the sofa. She stretched herself out across the seats, groaning quietly as the movement irritated her aching bones and joints.

The blanket slipped down, freeing her legs. Once she had settled herself on her back, lying flat, Connor gently rearranged the blanket to cover her legs again, then rummaged through the bag for the IV kit.

He opened a disinfecting wipe, took her right hand in both of his and swabbed the back of it clean. He discarded the wipe, opened the sealed needle and warned, "Just a little prick…"

He exhaled in relief when the needle entered her vein immediately, despite how flat it was. He taped it in place using a plaster and some bandages, then squeezed the bag a couple of times. The saline started flowing into her veins.

Satisfied, Connor set her hand down on top of her belly, then draped the bag on top of the sofa.

"Try to get some sleep until it's time for your meds. In the meantime, I'm gonna see what food you have in your kitchen and prepare something."

She didn't open her eyes but still smiled lightly. "Thank you" he heard her faintly.

* * *

"Ava" she was dimly aware of someone calling her. She frowned, really not wanting to be dragged out of oblivion. She could feel the pain radiating through her body even though her mind was so far away from it, so if she resurfaced from sleep's embrace, it would hurt worse.

However, the person was relentless and quickly moved on to shaking her shoulders. "Ava, come on, wake up."

It was Connor, she realised. Reluctantly, she dragged her eyes open. He was towering over her, gently shaking her. He smiled when he saw her eyes and before she could protest, he was slowly pulling her up into a sitting position.

Her stomach lurched alarmingly but she didn't dry-heave.

Something cold draped on her forehead started to slip down as he sat her up so she reached for it. It was a wet face-cloth. It felt good, so she held it up.

"Feeling dizzy?" he asked when he'd gotten her upright. The room was spinning lightly, so she admitted, "Little bit."

She lowered her legs onto the floor as he reached across her lap for two fluffy pillows on the armchair. She recognised them instantly; one had a turquoise cover, the other had sharks on it. They were the pillows from her bed.

 _He must've been in my room_ she thought as he stuffed them behind her back to prop her up.

Next, he picked up a thermometer from the table and held it in front of her. She reluctantly opened her mouth and allowed him to push it under her tongue and hold it there.

As they waited for it to take the reading, she looked at the table. It was stocked with medicinal items. There were plasters, syringes, boxes of pills and a small vial of something fluid. A glass of water stood there, too.

She frowned as she considered the items, she didn't have any of those in her drawers. He must've brought all of that with him, not just the IV and pain meds.

Coming to think of it, that thermometer wasn't hers, either; she hadn't come around to buy one yet… She fought not to let her mouth twitch into a smile. Had Connor really gone through all of this trouble for her?

A minute later, the thermometer started to beep frantically. He gently pulled it away from her mouth and spared it a quick glance.

"You're running a high fever" he informed her with a worried frown.

She shrugged, she knew that much without the thermometer. Still frowning, he handed her the water, "Here; drink, it should ease your throat. And take some domperidone, it'll make sure you won't throw up."

She carefully let go of the facecloth; it remained put against her skin, then took the glass from him. She noticed that she was still hooked to the drip.

He popped out a small white pill from one of the boxes on the table.

"How long have I been sleeping?" she asked weakly after swallowing the pill with tiny sips of water. Her IV bag looked to be full, suggesting that no time had passed. Which wasn't good. She was in pain and wanted the meds _now_.

"Almost 3 hours. It's just past 11 o'clock now. That's your second IV, by the way, in case you were wondering why it's still so full."

She nodded, relieved. She certainly felt more alert now that she was being rehydrated, even if the pain was still raging through her.

Connor continued, "I've made you some chicken soup. As soon as you've had some, you can have the pain relief and sleep everything off."

She sniffed the air; sure enough, she could smell a delicious, tangy aroma. She half-smiled. Although food was the last thing on her mind, having some soup would mean she was a step closer to the meds. They'd better be as good as he promised.

"I need to use the bathroom first." She said sheepishly. It was easier to talk now than before; thanks to the drink she'd just had.

He smiled in understanding and tugged the blanket at her hips away, freeing her legs. She sighed in relief as cool air hit her bare legs; she was still feeling as if she'd been running during a hot summer day in South Africa.

Ava then peeled the facecloth off and braced herself on the table in front of her to stand up, trying not to moan out loud as the simple action of getting onto her feet sent jabbing pains through her bones.

He stood up with her and allowed his hands to hover near her waist in case she stumbled.

Once she was upright, the floor beneath her feet did feel quite unsteady, so she reached out for him, hands gripping the jumper at his chest.

"Whoa, you ok?" he asked, concerned, as she swayed in his arms. His hands quickly descended onto her waist and held her in place. She took a couple of deep breaths, then nodded, "Dizzy spell. Think I'm good now."

She slowly let go, and sure enough, stood without trembling. He too reluctantly removed his hands from her and picked up the IV bag. As she slowly stepped around him, he handed it to her so that she could carefully make her way to the bathroom.

Soon after, he managed weakly "How about you put on some pants now that you're up?"

She turned around, gauging his facial expression. Managing a small smile, she said, "Nah, I'm good. Unless my legs are distracting you?"

"What? No, it's just, it looks cold to be without them." He sounded innocent enough, but the slight wideness to his eyes suggested to her that he might have been feigning ignorance.

Still smiling lightly, she assured him, "Trust me, I'm so hot right now."

"Yeah, you are" he said very quietly once she'd turned her back to him again. She probably wasn't meant to hear it. Her stomach fluttered dangerously, while she knew it wasn't because of the nausea, she still hurried a bit faster towards the bathroom. As she walked, she wondered if his gaze was now lingering on her butt.

When she emerged from the bathroom minutes later, she found the living room empty. She returned to the 3-seater, placed the IV bag on top of it, then slowly lowered herself in a sitting position against the pillows. They comfortably supported her weight, and she was pleased to notice that her stomach wasn't feeling dangerous anymore. The domperidone he'd given her was working.

She then pulled the ripple blanket onto her lap and opened it up again. Even though she was still sweltering hot, Connor had been right when he asked if she wanted to wear pants. It certainly didn't help her weakened immune system to be exposed to the cold room.

A few moments later, he came back into her view, a steaming mug in his hands. As the tangy smell wafted closer to her, she realised that she had developed a small appetite for the soup. The salts would increase her blood pressure and help to combat the faintness still lingering.

He handed her the mug, then a straw.

"I found these bamboo straws in your drawer" he said, sounding amused. She smiled, making a mental note to explain the concept of reusability to him once she had more energy, "Thanks, Connor."

Then, she took a tentative sip. The soup had a creamy texture but wasn't too heavy and slid down her throat without hurting much. She moaned quietly and sucked on the straw again; the soup tasted good, was lubricating her dry mouth and throat and didn't seem to be bothering her stomach.

"Take it easy" he warned as he settled himself in the armchair next to her. She erred on the side of caution and took very small, slow sips.

It warmed her from the inside that he'd clearly been worried enough about her that he'd come to her home and was settling her down. Here he was, _taking care of her_! She shuddered as she considered what state she would currently be in without his help. She surely wouldn't be well hydrated and hence be even weaker. Plus, the Tylenol she'd been popping like candy every 4 hours hadn't been effective at all. His pain meds sounded like a dream.

As she sipped, she was embarrassingly aware that he was mostly gazing at her, as if gauging her to see if she was going to hurl.

She also caught him glancing around the room. Had he gone up to where she kept framed pictures in the unit and studied them closely? If he had, he'd probably ask her about them later. They definitely portrayed a different Ava than he was accustomed to. She wouldn't be surprised if he'd ask her about them during surgery in front of the whole OR, as mini-payback for all of the grief she'd caused him. She tried not to think about that possibility, for domperidone or not, her stomach wasn't quite ready to tolerate nervous butterflies on top of liquids.

Once the mug was empty, she leaned forwards to set it down on the table. As she let her body fall back to the pillows, she smiled and croaked out, "That was delicious. Now, talk to me about the pain meds you brought!"

Ava then wriggled herself to lie down on her side. This position left her less vulnerable to feeling dizzy and she was pleasantly surprised at how comfortable it felt.

He eyed her, "Sure you wanna get comfortable here? Don't you want to sleep it off in your bed?"

She wrinkled her nose, the thought of having to get up again was not appealing. "Nah, I'm fine here."

"Okay" he said hesitantly, then answered her question, "I got you some injectable Toradol."

She nodded, that was an anti-inflammatory drug that decreased fever, swelling and pain. "Oh, goodie" she breathed.

He smiled at that, "The dose I'm going to administer will relieve you of the pain and should send you to sleep for 6 to 8 hours. By then, your body would hopefully have got the viral infection under control so your symptoms won't return as severely."

"6 to 8 hours, are you going to have to catheterise me?" she cracked a joke. He turned pink, "No, you'll only be lightly asleep towards the end of the slumber. You'll wake up when your body needs to relieve itself."

She couldn't help but grin. Despite being a doctor and familiar with the human body, Connor sounded awfully _shy_ just then.

"Ok, so shoot me up, Doc."

She watched as he reached for a sealed syringe and the vial of the medication.

"I can either inject this intravenously using a new vein; I didn't think of bringing a port I'm afraid so I can't use your right hand. Or, I can inject it directly into a muscle" he said, glancing at her to see her reaction.

She shrugged, "Whatever you think is medically best, Doc."

"Will you stop calling me that?" he asked, humour evident in his voice. She watched him unwrap the syringe and draw out a hefty amount of the medication into it.

"Whoa" she muttered. He chuckled, "You're young with no medical history, so you can safely tolerate this."

"How would you know?" she asked. He didn't reply but smiled wider. _I'll need to find out how he knows that later._

He tapped the syringe lightly, then pushed the plunger just enough for some liquid to escape the tip. Finally, he got up from the couch and crouched down in front of her.

"Muscle" she answered his previous question. Mostly because she knew that he'd probably have to give her the shot in the butt (since her arms were clad but her legs bare) and wanted to see how that affected him. But also because she didn't want both of her hands to be bruised. She _always_ got bruises from blood tests or IVs.

"Ok, in that case, it'll have to be in your buttocks, Ava. Easiest access."

She didn't say anything but let him pull the blankets down to her mid-thighs and push up her cotton panties, just enough to expose the cheek closest to him. She watched him intently, pleased to see him pinking up again. She tensed as he brought the cold disinfectant wipe to her skin, it felt like an ice-cube against her flushed body. Then, he pushed the needle into the muscle and pressed the plunger down.

"All set" he said, pressing some cotton wool against the puncture wound before gingerly rearranging her underwear over it and covering her legs with the blanket again.

She was surprised at how quickly her eyelids drooped.

"Ahh" she sighed as the pain started to ebb away. It reminded her of how the tide vanished on her favourite beach at home. One minute the waves were there, lapping at her, trying to knock her over and the next they were rushing off into the distance. Just like the aches in her body. She felt herself become lighter.

He smiled at her and draped the wet cloth onto her forehead again, pushing some sticky strands off her face in the process, "Sleep well, Ava."

"You'll let yourself out, yeah?" she asked, struggling to focus on him. But his reply was lost as she drifted off into the first painless, healing and wholesome sleep since she first started feeling sick.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:**

 **Thank you to all of my reviewers! You guys are amazing.**

 **To the very first reviewer: whether or not that pun was intended, it made me chuckle. I'm glad there's someone out there who, just like me, was waiting for a Rhekker fiction. I love love love this shipname by the way; hadn't thought about it myself yet!**

 **Marielle: thank you for your kind words, I'm glad you're enjoying this fic. Also, you have good intuition ;)...**

* * *

A sharp pressure in her lower abdomen woke Ava up.

 _God, I need to pee_ , she thought as she opened her eyes.

 _Wait… where am I_?

She carefully lifted her head and was pleased that the movement wasn't accompanied with any dizziness. She was lying right in the middle of her bed with the quilts pulled up to her shoulders.

She frowned, first of all, she _never_ slept in the middle of her bed like that. She always took the left side. Second of all, hadn't she fallen asleep on the sofa after Connor administered the Toradol?

She smiled to herself as she came to the conclusion that he must have carried her to her bed at some point. Ava wished she had been awake for that. She'd have _loved_ to experience being cradled against Connor's chest, his strong arms firmly holding her up as he carefully carried her. Her head would have been resting on his sternum; she might have heard his heart beating.

Oh well.

She pushed the quilt away from her chest and stretched out her arms. A small plaster was stuck to the back of her right hand.

 _Oh, ok. Connor must have waited for all of the saline to empty into me, then removed the bag and carried me to bed before letting himself out._

Satisfied with that, she sat up, still not feeling light-headed. Also, her body felt more like herself again. Her throat wasn't as constricted and her bones didn't throb. Only a slight ache resided that she could easily ignore. In fact, if she took it easy today, she probably wouldn't even many pain killers.

As bladder seemed to bulge within her abdomen, she quickly stood up.

 _Still no dizziness,_ she thought smugly. Before she made her way to the bathroom, she checked the time on her phone. It was quarter to 7 am. Just as Connor had predicted, she'd been knocked out for almost 8 hours.

As she crossed her room, the floor felt unpleasantly cold against her bare soles and goose bumps erupted on her naked legs.

 _Wait! I'm feeling cold, so that means that the fever finally broke,_ Ava grinned to herself. The worst was definitely over.

She slipped into the en suite and relieved herself. She then turned on the shower and let the water run to become warm. In the meantime, she stripped off the few clothes she was wearing and threw them into the clothes bin. Maybe _pried off_ was a better-suited verb since they were extremely sticky against her; she had clearly sweated during the night.

Something light tickled her foot. She glanced down and found a small wad of cotton wool on the floor. She picked it up, confused. There was a drop of dried blood on it.

 _Oh!_ She remembered that Connor had pressed some cotton against her butt after the injection, then left it there, trapped between her skin and panties. It must have fallen to the ground when she undressed herself. She twisted herself around so that her back was facing the mirror in front of the shower. Yup, she could make out the needle mark, right in the middle of her right butt-cheek. She massaged it lightly, and as expected, the muscle was sore from the injection. Shrugging, it was nothing to worry about after all, she discarded the cotton wool.

Before hopping in the shower, she pulled off the rubber band that was ineffectively holding about half of her hair in a braid and used her fingers to tease it open. Then, she grabbed her toothbrush, applied some toothpaste and stepped into the warm stream of water.

She groaned quietly as the water overhead ran over her body. She just stood there, right under the showerhead, eyes closed, brushing her teeth, letting the warm liquid wash away the stickiness and stale sweat off her skin, smoothen her hair down against her back and clean her face.

Once her mouth tasted fresh and minty again, she spat out the toothpaste and leaned out of the cubicle briefly to set the brush back in its etui by the sink. Then, she started the process of shampooing her hair.

As her fingers massaged the shampoo into her scalp and long hair, she lost herself to her thoughts.

Connor Rhodes had come to _her house_ last night to take care of _her_. And the night before that, he'd voluntarily given her a life home. When he'd seen that she had no means of going home undrenched and would have had to call herself a cab, he'd just taken her by the arm and led her to his car without an ounce of hesitation.

She shivered. Did this all mean anything? Or was he simply a really thoughtful guy that had grown to consider her a friend? (Cos the first 2 months they worked together, he'd probably have been _pleased_ for her to fall sick and most definitely wouldn't have helped her. She was horribly competitive after all and until he got used to her pushing, to him it must have felt like she was stepping all over his toes).

It could be the case that he was simply thoughtful; from what she'd managed to squeeze out from fellow co-workers, he used to be quite a one-woman guy and that required a lot of attention to detail, right?

Apparently, Connor had had 2 serious relationships in the 2 years he'd been at Gaffney before her arrival. The relationship to the first woman ended when she accepted a position as Head of Trauma at John Hopkins. So he probably didn't believe in long-term relationships. She didn't, either. That people could continue a relationship without intimacy was beyond her. She couldn't comprehend giving up not only sex, but also simple gestures such as touching a loved person's arm or giving them a goodnight kiss and still maintain that a relationship existed. So, the end of that relationship was understandable.

Then there was Robin. From what she had observed herself, Robin leaving him stemmed from her illness, not because he'd been unfaithful or unloving. She had needed a clean start elsewhere to the expense of their relationship. Everyone at hospital had been unsubtly tiptoeing around her and treating her with kid gloves upon her return, just waiting to see if she would go crazy again. That was no healthy environment to recover in; Ava would've run off too if she were in Robin's shoes. Hell, she _had_ run away from South Africa herself after Mattheu, right?

She squeezed her eyes shut tighter, her brain furiously sorting through everything.

 _What else had there been that could indicate..? Oh, yeah, his blushing when it came to my body,_ she remembered. And the, "Yeah, you're hot" comment. Those _could_ mean he liked her but could also mean nothing at all. Maybe he'd been agreeing that she was (temperature) hot since he'd just taken a thermometer reading. Maybe he'd semi-blushed because he didn't want _her_ to be embarrassed by it all when she was well and alert again.

She snorted at that thought, she had _no_ problem showing off, be it her skills, experience or body. _But he wouldn't know that_ , the nagging part of her mind that was trying to shelter her from being hurt again said. It was making a very strong case that all of her 'evidence' that Connor was sexually interested in her was purely circumstantial and she shouldn't get carried away just yet.

Ava sighed. Before she could work up a headache agonising over the details and might bes and what ifs, she concentrated on washing away all remnants of having been sick.

A quarter of an hour later, she turned the water off and stood in the cubicle for a minute, squeezing her hair out and letting the excess water drip off her body.

Then, she stepped out into the cool bathroom, reached for the blue towel on the rail and wrapped it around her torso. Ava picked up her brush and began untangling her hair. As it became easier to brush through her hair with each stroke, she was pleased to see how long it was. It reached her mid-back when she brushed it out. It would appear shorter once she towel-dried it and let the curls set in, but that was nothing compared to the short, bob-style cut she'd worn back at home.

Satisfied that she'd untangled all the knots, Ava unwrapped the towel and dried her body off before using it to rub her hair dry, too. By the time she discarded it into the clothes bin, damp, and padded back into her bedroom, her hair had become wavy again and was mostly dry.

She opened her wardrobe and quickly donned clean underwear and a pair of grey hand-knit socks. _Bless my mother_ , she thought fondly as balanced on a leg to put the socks on. She loved hand knitted socks because they were so thick. In Africa, she couldn't appreciate them too much because of the heat. But here, her toes would go numb from the cold if she didn't wear them.

Once her feet were protected from the floor, her eyes flitted through the small piles of clothes in the shelves to see what she should wear. She ended up choosing black cotton leggings and a loose, light-grey t-shirt (no surprise there; half of her shirts were grey, it was her favourite colour to wear). Because it was cool, she finished off the comfortable jammies outfit with a pink robe that fell to her thighs.

As she tied its belt at her waist, Ava walked out of her bedroom, intent on going to the kitchen and having something to drink. Now that she was done with IV fluids, she needed to keep herself orally hydrated. It shouldn't be a problem anymore since her stomach felt like normal.

She emerged into the hall that served as the crossroad of her little bungalow. Right opposite the bedroom was a guest bathroom. To the left there was the kitchenette and dining room and to the right there was the living room. While the bedroom and bathroom both had their own door, the doorways to the living room and kitchen were open plane.

Before heading into the kitchen, Ava glanced to her right first; towards the living room. It was purely a habitual glance; as if to reassure herself that the front door was intact and no-one had tried robbing the place.

And she did a double take when she saw that there was a figure on her sofa. She quietly popped her head around the open doorway, and her heart stuttered as she saw that _Connor Rhodes_ was lying fast asleep on her 3-seater, looking somewhat cramped.

Her mouth dropped and she took it all in. Her scrubs, blue socks and a belt she didn't recognise were folded neatly on the table next to a full-looking cloth bag; it probably contained the medical supplies he'd brought but not used since the rest of the table was now bare.

His shoes were lying next to hers by the door and her coat and scarf hung on the rack; Connor _must_ have picked it up for she clearly remembered simply letting everything drop to the floor when she arrived home from hospital and stripped in that nauseous hot flush. His jacket hung there, right next to hers.

Connor himself was a sight for sore eyes. His body was too long for the couch and so his knees were bent outwards. The pillows he'd removed from her bed for her were now supporting his neck, and her ripple blanket covered most of his body but stopped short at his shoulders. He was still wearing that dark blue jumper and his hair was jutting out at odd angles. She had to supress a grin as she studied her colleague. He looked so peaceful when he was unaware of everything. She loved how his mouth was slightly open and no lines marred his face. Sleeping lowered his guard and made him look younger.

Connor had stayed the night to make sure she woke up ok. _What!?_ This time, she didn't manage to supress that grin.

She stared at him for a few minutes, leaning against the doorway, still grinning and feeling all warm and fuzzy on the inside.

Finally, she pulled herself out of it. She couldn't keep staring at him forever; if she woke him now and he got going , he could be at work before 8 am, not too late to raise concern or get into trouble.

She decided it would be appropriate to make him up with a fresh cup of coffee as a thank you for everything he'd done for her before waking him.

So she headed a bit too eagerly into the kitchen and started the kettle. Until the water boiled, she prepared two mugs. She had an odd assortment since she'd bought them second hand from a flea market upon her arrival. She couldn't justify buying some perfect matching set when good quality kitchenware at bargain prices could be bought from such a bazar.

Her mug had a cartoon drawing of a great white shark and a seal with one of its flippers in a sling. A speech-bubble coming from the seal said, "Do not consume if seal is broken!" She'd fallen instantly in love with that mug when she spotted it as it was the perfect combination of her love for sharks and puns. If she ever moved again, there was no way she'd leave it behind.

The one she chose for Connor had delicate flowers painted all over it. She smirked, it wasn't masculine but the 'best boyfriend ever' mug didn't seem appropriate, and flowers were far prettier than the other solid-coloured mugs she had. And no matter how grateful she was towards him for everything, he was _not_ getting her shark mug.

She spooned some soluble coffee into each, then added sugar to his. In the very beginning, when he was having a rough time with balancing taking Robin home and work, she'd bought him a coffee which he hadn't accepted. If he _had_ , he would've been surprised to find she knew his flavour. Ava had asked the lady at the coffee cart what, "Doctor Rhodes, you know, the ridiculously hot cardio surgeon?" drank and the cart lady had giggled, recognising the description. He apparently liked his coffee with lots of milk and a teaspoon of sugar.

Soon, she was carefully walking towards the living room with hot mugs in either hand. She placed his down on the table, centimetres away from his face. Then, she lowered herself into the armchair, folding her legs underneath her body. She wrapped her second hand around the mug, relishing in its warmth, and decided she could wait a couple of minutes before waking him up.

She wanted to study his features and permanently trap the memory in her brain while he was still unaware of her gaze.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: and here is the last chapter! Thank you everyone for your reviews, they make my day! I h** **ope this ficlet has satisfied your cravings for Rhekker stories for now. Stay tuned ;) and feel free to message me with any requests/ideas to inspire me.**

* * *

Ava soon discovered that the smell of coffee could wake Connor. As she took her first sip, eyes trained on him, his nose twitched. She couldn't stop the corners of her mouth from rising.

 _There goes my plan!_

He opened his eyes soon after that and spotted her instantly. He rubbed them briefly and sat up, blinking in the dim light.

"Good morning" she said, still smiling over her mug. Her voice was not as rusty as the previous day.

He pressed his knuckles into the small of his back while bringing his feet to the ground to settle himself into a sitting position. "Morning" he replied, picking up his mug and raising it slightly in a _prost_ motion, "And thank you."

He eyed her, taking in her damp, curling hair and attire.

She waved a hand, "That's the least I could do after everything you did for me yesterday, Connor. So, thank _you_."

He smiled, "You're welcome."

Then he brought the mug to his lips. Her heart fluttered as he moaned ever so quietly, it was just a throaty _mmh_ in the back of his throat but it sounded so sensual.

"This is… how did you know how I drink my coffee?"

She chuckled, "I could ask the same about how you knew my medical history."

He grinned at that and chose not to answer. Instead, they drank their coffee together in comfortable silence.

His coffee didn't last long. Once he set the mug down, he leaned over towards her and his hand descended onto her forehead without warning. She couldn't help it; her eyes fell shut at the cool contact.

"I think you're still running a fever, but _nothing_ compared to last night" he informed her.

When he pulled his hand away, she opened her eyes and found him smirking at her.

"How are you feeling?"

She tilted her head, "I've been better. But compared to yesterday? It's indescribable how good I feel. I can talk without croaking, drink _and_ walk properly now."

"You may not be croaking, but you still don't sound quite like Ava."

"Eh, it'll take a few days, but I can definitely see the light at the end of this horrid tunnel."

He grinned, looking relieved. "Good, cos you had me worried. You measured 40.1 degrees C just before I gave you the meds."

Wow, that was impressively high.

"What time is it?" he asked her, frowning as he glanced around. The room was quite dark but he couldn't tell if it was because of the time or weather.

"About 20 past 7. You won't be very late for work if you leave now."

He nodded, "Are you ok if I leave?"

It was her turn to grin, "Connor, I'm a 29-year-old woman. I think I can handle recovering from a cold now that my kitchen is stocked with delicious soup."

Chuckling, he stood up and grabbed the belt. She gulped involuntarily as he hiked the jumper up so that he could thread it through the loops in his jeans. Her eyes trailed downwards momentarily.

"Ok then. By the way, those're some interesting pictures you have there."

Before she could say anything, he was walking towards the wall-unit, still tugging the belt through the loops. She scrambled up and followed him, mug in her hands.

"It never occurred to me what a different life you had before Chicago!" he said while buckling the belt blindly.

She watched his eyes flit over the different photos. Not to her surprise, he seemed to be lingering on the photo in the silver frame.

She gulped again. That one was her least favourite, she only had it up as a reminder of all the good and bad in South Africa. Just that one picture summed up why she'd packed her bags and was enough to remind her that she regretted _nothing_ about the choices she had made in her life, even when she was feeling homesick.

She forced herself to look at it too, to see what Connor was seeing.

That photo was set at Noordhoek Beach, Cape Town, about 5 years ago. It depicted her with her ex, Mattheu, on white sands with gorgeous turquoise waves behind them. Her arm was carelessly slung around his shoulders while his snaked around her waist. They were both dressed in swimwear; Ava in denim shorts and a pink bikini top, the type that was just two triangles and string and could be untied at about 4 different places and would fall off with the lightest tug. His dreadlocks were flying all over his face and he was gazing adoringly at her. Her own hair was short; its ends barely reached her chin, and even curlier than it got now. Her head was thrown back in the middle of a hearty laugh and drops of seawater glistened on both of their bodies. Neither of them had been aware the photo was being taken, which made it feel so intimate.

"You develop quite the tan, huh?" he said, turning to her. She half-smiled. "It's, uh, been a while since I spent a whole summer at the beach. Don't know if I'd still become so golden."

He chuckled at her choice of words. "How old were you here? 23? 24?"

"Yeah, something like that. That's… that's my ex-boyfriend, Mattheu" she said a bit reluctantly.

"You both look so happy in this picture" he said with a tinge of sadness in his voice, as if he knew how bitterly it had ended. "Why do you keep a photo of your ex in your wall unit?"

She bit her lip, contemplating whether she should give him the truth or some wishy-washy answer.

Eventually, to her own surprise, she blurted out, "Because if it weren't for… everything that… _transpired_ … between the two of us, I wouldn't be here today. I wouldn't have left Cape Town to continue my residency in Johannesburg, I wouldn't have met Doctor Jaffrey and I wouldn't have decided to take up a fellowship in CT. I wouldn't be _here_ right now, recovering from this cold with you standing next to me, Connor."

Her sincerity and willingness to tell him that scared her. Even though she knew that Connor wasn't going to use this against her or anything and enough time had passed that she should be able to talk about this, it was still a very sore subject. Her life had been _so close_ to looking so different than it was now. One tiny mistake had blown it all up and sent her flying completely off-rail. And the alternative that had almost been her reality still scared her.

He seemed to sense her inner dilemma and didn't push her further on it. All he asked was, "Are you happy though, where you ended up?"

That was easy. She smiled widely, "I couldn't have dreamed of a better outcome. I have achieved so much already, and Mattheu was not just a catalyst for that, he was a _reactant_. If only my 24-year-old self knew that it would all turn out well. Would've spared me a lot of heartache!"

He reassured her, "Yeah, I get you. As a teenager, I was in some sticky situations and dark patches without a clue as to what I was doing or what would become of me. I was even arrested once."

She smirked smugly, "Oh, I know."

He did a double take, " _What_? How!?"

She made a show of taking a sip of coffee. "I have my sources" she said huskily.

He laughed, "You seem to know so much more about me than I do about you. I mean, before today I had _no_ idea..." he helplessly gestured at all of the photos.

She grinned up at him, he had a point.

"Let me help you even out the score. That is my mum" she pointed at a portrait of a 40-something woman. "Best mum ever. Too religious perhaps, didn't approve of _any_ of my boyfriends, except for Mattheu because of how serious we were. But growing up with her… Wouldn't trade it for anything. She took us to the beach _every day_ , even in winter."

"She looks just like you" he mused. Their eyes and hair were identical. "What's her name?"

"Netta."

She didn't miss the wistful look that crossed his features. He was undoubtedly thinking about his own mother whom he didn't get to enjoy the way she did.

She briefly placed a hand on his bicep and gave him a small smile.

His eyes conveyed his gratitude for her sensitivity.

"What about that picture?" he broke the moment, nodding at the photo that showed the woman she'd identified as her mum, Ava herself, a young mixed-race guy and an older black man. They all had their arms around each other and were grinning.

"This is our most recent family portrait, taken just before my departure for Chicago. That's my older brother, Kai, and our dad. Kai's protective as hell and we're very close, we FaceTime once a week. He was the one that helped me escape Cape Town and set me up in Johannesburg when... things fell apart. Don't think Mam ever forgave him for that!"

She was appreciative that he didn't address the clear racial differences between herself, her brother and dad. There would be better, unhurried times for that.

She skipped the picture of the 18-month-old girl with dark skin and adorable puff of hair that resembled a halo more than an afro. Instead, she pointed at a picture of a little spotted fish. "That little bugger may not look like much but is actually a shark I rescued. The _first_ one I rescued."

His eyes popped, " _What_?"

"Yup. Some sharks lay eggs, such as this species. I found its egg-case washed up on the beach after a storm. I could just about make out the embryo within, it was tiny! I convinced my mum to let me set up an aquarium and let it hatch. 4 months later, little Dory was born. We released her back into the sea eventually. Until I left home, I continued to do this every time I found a washed-up egg-case… I miss saving them sharks."

"Is this why you have an aquarium in your kitchen?" he asked, amused, pointing in its direction, "Because you've had one for so long in your child- and teen-hood and miss it?"

"Yeah. It's my little reminder of home."

He laughed, "That's a very satisfying explanation, thank you!"

He glanced back at the pictures and pointed at the final one. "This is you as a kid?"

"Yes, uh, diving for the first time. Think I was about 12. You might've picked up by now that I love the sea."

"Hmm, not sure what gave it away first; your pillows, the ripple blanket, your mug _or_ the fact that half of these photos feature the sea in some way" he said playfully.

She grinned sheepishly.

"I'm surprised you didn't become a marine biologist or something" he added.

"Actually, I had seriously considered becoming one. But I chose medicine after my brother was in an accident and the doctors brought him back to us from the brink of death. I wanted to be able to do that for others, too."

"Ahh" he breathed at that clarification, still studying the last picture carefully.

"That's all you get for today" she teased when a minute later, he was still staring at the pictures.

He looked down at her, his eyes were shining brightly.

"That's ok, I have a lot to work with and digest. Just, _wow_! You have such a vibrant past!"

She shrugged modestly, "Mostly, I guess."

They fell silent for a minute. Connor's eyes shifted from one photo to the next, again and again.

After a while, she said lightly, "You owe me now, though. I may have my sources, but they're not very… _detailed_ accounts. Just a rather stark sketch of _some_ aspects of Connor Rhodes."

He glanced at her again and laughed, "Well then, you'd better take it nice and easy and get back to work soon. We'll have _many_ surgeries to discuss it all…"

"That sounds like a plan" she concurred happily.

Then she snuck a look at the clock on the wall, "Connor, I don't want to throw you out, but it's almost half past seven…"

He glanced at it, too, "Oh, right. I'd better get going before Doctor Latham wonders if he got me sick, too."

But he turned right back to the photos.

She smiled at that and decided to take the lead by walking towards the door, setting her mug down on the table on the way.

She leaned against the wall next to the door and watched him reluctantly tear his gaze for good from the pictures and pick up the cloth bag. He then walked towards the coat hanger, slipped his feet into his shoes, unhooked his jacket and pulled it on.

He looked up from where he stood, ready to leave, just a metre away from her.

She broke the silence first; "Connor, thank you for everything. I… Thank you. _Why_ , though? Why…?"

Her question died on her tongue and hung unfinished in the air as he slowly started taking small steps towards her. Ava held her breath as he came very, _very_ close to her, closing her in against the wall.

Her heart started to gallop and her mind whirred. _Does this mean what I think it does, what I want it to? It must, right?_ She kept her eyes trained on him.

With a little shrug he nonchalantly said "No particular reason, just that I _hate winning by default._ "

She grinned, hadn't she said that to him once?

"And cos we're friends, wouldn't you do the same for me?" his tone was light, so she rolled her eyes and said, "No, I don't know where you live."

He laughed at that. He was still oh so close. She licked her lips as her eyes drunk in all the details to him. He was so close that she had to crane her neck upwards and could see the light stubble grazing his cheeks and the gorgeous hue of his eyes.

She wanted nothing more than to close the little distance between them that in this moment actually felt like a huge canyon, to rise to her tiptoes and pull his face down to hers.

 _No_. Not now. It wasn't a good time. She couldn't keep him from work. If she started anything now, it wouldn't do any of them good; he was in a hurry and this was something they needed to thoroughly explore together. She needed to be patient, soon she'd be well and would return to work, _then_ they could resume their banter and hopefully pick up from here.

"So, uh, you'd better keep a safe distance…" she added quietly.

He grinned and glanced down at her lips. His gaze lingered long enough for her to be sure that he had looked in the first place.

She stood her guard, heart still racing.

He didn't move in any further, but continued grinning, "Ok. Until you're better, that is" he promised. She grinned back, hope flaring in her chest.

As he opened her door and took half a step out, she found that she could breathe again. Before he was out of earshot, she called, "Try not to enjoy my absence too much, and don't you dare get any interesting cases without me."

"Wouldn't dream of it" he replied without turning around.

Still grinning, she gazed after him until he was in his car and driving off.

 _This has definitely been the most eventful cold ever,_ she decided happily as she closed the door.


End file.
